


The Sexth Sense

by turps



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sibling Incest, no actual plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 22:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18019886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: Written for a prompt at umbrellakink on dreamwidthKlaus stopped using but he still needs to get out of his head. A lot. His siblings take turns throughout the day having sex with him.





	1. Luther

**Author's Note:**

> This has no actual plot, just what it says on the tin. The Hargreeves siblings taking care of Klaus in their own ways.
> 
> Each sibling has their own chapter.
> 
> To the anon requester, I hope this fits what you want if only a little.

Klaus isn’t sure how it started. 

If it was something that happened organically, all his siblings drawing close after sensing his need. Or if it was something discussed and planned out between them. And if that was the case, and if Klaus was still capable of feeling humiliation he’d feel it then, that he’s become some kind of project.

But he doesn’t feel humiliation. Mostly. Usually.

Okay, sometimes maybe he does. 

Anyway, he hopes it’s the first. But even if it isn’t, he’s not about to say no.

~*~*~*~

“Klaus.”

Klaus opens his eyes, fingers twitching against the sheets as he turns his head slightly, seeing Luther stand in the doorway. He’s taking up almost all of the space and if it wasn’t too much effort, Klaus would make some kind of smart remark about blocking the light.

But he doesn’t. His throat is too dry, his lips cracked, ants crawling over his skin as he lies on his bed and pulls in shuddering breaths. Sometimes he thinks it would be easier to just stop, but each time he’s tried, he’s always come back.

“Klaus,” Luther says again, and ignoring the lack of response, he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. “What can I do?”

Klaus bites at his lip, trying to focus on that pain and not the fact his whole body is burning. He feels dried out and shaky, cravings so bad that all he wants to do is crawl from his bed and find something to take -- anything to take. 

“Right now I could snort the dried sweat from your body,” Klaus says, eyes closing as he curls on his side, knees drawn up to his chest. “It would be fucking fantastic.”

“It would be gross,” Luther corrects, sounding perplexed as he sits, causing the bed to dip at one side. “Also, wouldn’t do anything. Sweat wouldn’t give you a high.”

“Not the point.” Klaus rolls with the dip so his knees are pressed against Luther’s thigh, drinking in the scant contact. “The act would help.”

“If you say so.” There’s a pause, then the feel of Luther’s hand against Klaus’ side, his fingers digging in slightly as Luther says, “You can if you want. Not snort my sweat, that’s gross, but if you want to lick? Yeah.”

“You’re giving me permission to lick you?” Klaus would laugh, but suspects if he starts he’ll never be able to stop. “Why?”

“Because you need it,” Luther says, and his hand is warm, his touch sure as runs his thumb over the curve of Klaus’ hip. “Because I know what it’s like to be trapped with only the thoughts in your head.”

Klaus does laugh then, he can’t help it, something sharp and jagged sounding as he reaches for Luther. “I hate those thoughts.”

“They’re the worst,” Luther agrees, moving his hand further, so his fingertips are pushed under the tight waistband of Klaus’ pants. “But you have to push them away.”

Klaus opens his mouth, about to ask how to do that, how Luther manages to muffle his own thoughts, but the words never form. How can they when, in a sudden fluid move, Luther pushes Klaus flat on his back and then kneels above him.

“Is this okay?” Luther asks, and he’s straddling Klaus, leaning forward, solid and immovable, his concern obvious. “If it’s too much...”

Klaus feels held down and blanketed, Luther surrounding him on all sides. It should be suffocating, but it’s not. Instead, for the first time in days, Klaus feels protected and safe. “It’s not.”

“Okay,” Luther says, the words a rumble over Klaus’ chest. And then, after a long pause, “You can still lick me if you want.”

Klaus turns his head so his forehead is against Luther’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of sweat, coarse hair tickling his face as he shakes his head and says, “Maybe later.”

“Okay,” Luther says, and remains solid in place, saying nothing as Klaus clings and remembers how to breathe.


	2. Allison

“Did Luther send you?” Klaus is sitting on the floor next to his bed. He feels bruised and wiped out, even raising his head an effort. “Because if he did, I’m okay.”

“You don't look it,” Allison says. She’s got a bag held in one hand and her feet are bare, her toenails painted a bright red. “I brought you something.”

“Drugs?” Klaus asks, even though he knows that it’s not. Is glad that it’s not: at least mostly. “Tell me you’ve brought uppers or downers. Or hell, inbetweeners, I’ll take anything.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Allison sets down the bag and stands over Klaus, holding out her hand. “Get up. You’ve been hiding too long.”

Klaus reaches out, clasping his hand with Allison’s, his head spinning as she pulls him to his feet. “I’m not hiding.”

“You haven’t left your bedroom for over a day.” Allison’s still holding Klaus’ hand, their fingers entwined as she looks him from head to toe. “You look like crap.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Klaus tries for a smile, but it feels fake, fragile as Allison stares at his face.

“Just the pretty ones.” Allison squeezes her hand and then lets go, pushing Klaus so he overbalances, landing heavily on his bed. “Take off your pants.”

Klaus blinks, trying to understand where this is going. “Are you coming on to me?”

It’s a joke -- mostly, but Allison looks serious as she opens the bag and takes out a bundle of clothes. “A little. Put these on.”

“You’re dressing me now? We’re going somewhere?” Klaus takes the clothes, hands shaking as he holds up a dress. It’s short, black and cut low in the front, the material soft under his fingers. 

“It’s one of my favourites,” Allison says, and picks up the thong that’s dropped onto Klaus’ lap. She holds it out, hooked over her fingers. “This is mine, too.”

“Is it used?” As jokes go it’s half-hearted, and Klaus knows if he wants to pretend that he’s fine he should snatch the thong and deliberately sniff the material. He doesn’t. It was the Klaus from before who did that, and now it doesn’t feel right. He looks from the dress to Allison and says, “Why?”

“Because you like wearing my clothes,” Allison says simply, and crouches, tugging at the waistband of Klaus’ pants. “Up, you need to take these off.”

Klaus lifts his hips, hands clenched in the fabric of the dress, trying to understand as Allison efficiently strips him of his pants and throws them onto the bed. Naked, Klaus shivers, feeling cold and exposed. 

“This should fit fine.” Allison kneels, her hair falling forward as she pulls at the thong, threading it over each one of Klaus’ ankles in turn.”You won’t need much give.”

“Are you saying I’ve got a small cock?” This time Klaus does take the joke, pulling humour around him as Allison eases up the underwear, her mouth curved up into a small smile. Klaus pushes up his hips again, allowing Allison to tug and arrange. It feels strange, effient but not sexual -- not really.

Not yet.

“It suits you,” Allison says, never answering Klaus’ comment as she sits back on her heels, her gaze assessing. 

“It feels good,” Klaus says, and it does, comfortable, and Klaus looks down his own body, over his chest and flat stomach, taking in his cock trapped behind the triangle of red lace. “And my colour, too.”

“Everything is your colour,” Allison says, and stands, head tilted to one side as she looks down at Klaus. “The dress now.”

“Fine.” Klaus pushes himself up, distracted by slight drag of lace over his dick. He wants to explore more, taking solace in these sensations that aren’t him wanting to twitch out of his skin. But Allison is watching, her smile widening when Klaus simply holds his hands in the air.

“You know, I’m not your mom,” Allison says, and that should add an extra level of wrong to this whole situation, but it doesn’t. How can it when their whole lives are based on fucked up dynamics and grey lines?

Klaus remains still, feels soft fabric sliding over his skin as Allison slips the dress over his head and tugs. The dress falls into place easily, Klaus dropping his eyes as he looks down, sees his chest exposed due to the low cut. Material clinging over his hips before flaring out slightly. It’s a dress made for style but also for comfort, and Klaus can picture Allison wearing it hundreds of times, can almost feel the heat and scent of her body trapped in the fibres. 

Allison takes a step back, and looks directly at Klaus, says, “It looks good.”

Klaus feels good -- or more truthfully, he feels better than he did, maybe not good, not yet. Still, it’s a start and he says, “Thank you.”

Allison waves that away, stepping closer to Klaus so they’re barely inches apart, both breathing the same air until unexpectedly Allison says in a rush, “Is it okay to kiss you?”

For the first time since Allison stepped into the room she seems unsure, and Klaus hates that. While they’re not as close as some of their other siblings, he still loves her, and takes a step forward himself, their bodies pushed together as he says, “Yes.”

Allison kisses like they’ve done it before, no hesitation, just her hands on his back, holding Klaus close as she slips her tongue into his mouth. Klaus lets himself fall into the kiss, the lace of the thong digging in as he grinds against her, craving the sensation, Allison’s fingers digging in, pinpoints of pressure as Klaus squirms, breathing hard as Allison deepens the kiss even further. 

It’s what Klaus needed, heat and pressure and total acceptance, Allison holding him tight, pushing back as Klaus grinds against her. 

“This is okay?” Allison has pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against Klaus’ with each word.

“It’s perfect,” Klaus says, and lets his head fall forward, his forehead against Allison’s, his eyes closing when he feels her hand move. “Allison.”

“Shush.” Allison pushes her hand between their bodies, pulling the hem of the dress up so she can cup her palm over Klaus’ dick. 

Klaus gasps, his hips bucking forward, needing more as Allison teases, barely moving her hand. It’s a maddening feeling, and Klaus’ breathing quickens, a gasp pulled from his throat when he feels Allison slide her fingers under the lace of the thong.

Klaus wants to beg, to move, to do anything but stand still, his breath hitching as Allison lightly drags dry fingers over the tip of his cock.

“Too much?” Allison asks, and Klaus shakes his head, heartbeat quickening as Allison keeps stroking with minute barely there touches, smearing pre-come as Klaus bites at his bottom lip, desperate for more. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Allison’s voice is soft, soothing, but she doesn’t increase her pace. Barely touching as Klaus pants, needing more contact -- and then gets it.

A quick shift in position and Allison curls her fingers around Klaus’ dick, holding on as he groans and snaps his hips forward, fucking into her hand. 

“It’s okay,” Allison says again, and moves in for a kiss. Instantly Klaus feels himself falling, lost in the sensation of Allison’s mouth against his, her hand on his cock, her touch sure, no hint of the previous teasing.

Klaus knows he’s not going to last long. Wanting to warn, he attempts to pull back, but Allison moves with him and Klaus knows that he’s gone.

A last stroke, a last twist of her hand, and Allison breaks the kiss, pulls back enough so she can look directly at Klaus as he spills over her hand. His dress rucked up, the lace of the thong soaked, Klaus feeling boneless as Allison kisses the corner of his mouth and pulls out her hand.

Sure she’s about to leave, Klaus steels himself for Allison moving away. She doesn’t, just glances at her hand, her fingers glistening and slick and without missing a beat, wraps her arms around Klaus and holds on.


	3. Five

Klaus is in the tub when Five walks into the bathroom.

Almost fully submerged, the water lapping over his ears, Klaus looks up and says, “Have you come to kiss me, too?”

“No.” Five peers over the side of the tub, his expression stoic as usual. “But I am here to help.”

“You’re going to scrub my back.” Klaus manages a coy smile, something easier to achieve now, but he still feels bruised, the constant craving for oblivion just a heartbeat away. “How lovely.”

“No,” Five states, and takes off his blazer, his movements precise as he folds and hangs it over the towel rail. “I’m going to relieve you sexually.”

It’s what Klaus half expected, but not stated so bluntly, and he abruptly sits, causing water to splash to the floor. “You’re what?”

“Going to relieve you sexually,” Five repeats, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s been helping, and I want to help you. But no kissing, Dolores will get jealous.”

“Understandable,” Klaus says faintly because a jealous mannequin is one of the least weird things that have happened today. “But you don’t have to. Not if it’ll cause problems for you and Dolores.”

“No, she’s fine with most stuff, just no kissing.” Five approaches the tub, frowning when he sees the water that’s pooled on the floor. “Now I’m going to get wet.”

“Isn’t that the point of sex?” Klaus points out, unsure if he should make an effort to get out of the water.

“Depends what you’re doing.” Five kneels, resting his forearms on the edge of the tub as he stares at Klaus. “But in this case, you’re already wet and I don’t need to be.”

Klaus picks through the words, trying to understand what’s going on -- and ends up with nothing. “You don’t want to have sex?”

“No,” Five corrects, pushing back from the tub so he can indicate his body with a swipe of his hand. “ _I_ don’t need sex, but this body does, all the goddamn time. I threw a boner having a cup of coffee this morning. It wasn’t even good coffee.”

“So, this body, which is still actually you, just not the mental you, wants sex,” Klaus says, hoping he’s got that right. Because as much as he’s craving distractions, he’s not about to have sex with someone who doesn’t actually want it, especially when they look like a young teen. 

“This body would have sex with you in a heartbeat,” Five says, sitting back on his heels and considering Klaus. “But I’ve got things to do and places to be and it’ll be quicker this way. Now, lie back and spread your legs.”

“That’s cold,” Klaus says, but he’s already sliding back in the water, his dick starting to sit up at the command. “Where’s the foreplay? I might not be that easy.”

“You are that easy,” Five says, and the words should be cutting, except, there’s the hint of a smile on his mouth, a barely there curve that hints at affection as he stares down at Klaus. “Now spread them.”

Warm water lapping over his chest, Klaus spreads his legs, his knees against the sides of the tub. “Have you done this before? Whatever it is you’re about to do.”

“Of course I’ve done it before. All those years alone with Dolores, I got very intimate with my prostate.” Five wiggles his fingers, smirking at Klaus. “She did try to help sometimes, but she found it hard to hit the spot, the lack of flexibility and all.”

Klaus tries not to think about it, but even so, he can’t help asking, “Are you telling me that you and Doloros….”

“That’s private,” Five cuts in, affecting dignity even as his smile widens. “But let's just say, between us I got there.”

“Great. I’m happy for you both,” Klaus says, half convinced Doloros’ arm is about to appear over the side of the tub. Which is fine, Klaus is nothing but experimental and will try everything once.

“Hey, mind off my girl,” Five says, shaking his head as he glares at Klaus. “This is between me and you only.”

“Sorry.” Klaus shrugs, sliding down more so the warm water laps at his chin.

“Just don’t do it again.” A last look and Five leans forward, movement sure as he braces himself against the side of the tub and plunges one hand into the water.

Klaus jumps at the abrupt move, barely able to suck in a breath before he feels fingers ghost over his dick and balls, then stop at his crack. Five’s making no attempt to push in, not yet, and Klaus is glad about that. While he’s no virgin, he still needs to get his head around the fact that this is Five. Five who’s been missing for years, and is now suddenly back, solid and here and apparently happy to do whatever is needed to help Klaus. 

“You ready?” Five asks, barely waiting for Klaus’ nodded response before pushing what feels like one finger inside. Klaus gasps, loving the sensation of something inside him, shivering at the thought this is _Five_ , his brother pushing in deeper and hooking his finger. 

Klaus jerks, not that it hurts in the slightest. Just, this is so weird and clinical and yeah, the word really is weird. And Klaus likes it.

“Sorry, the angle is different when you’re doing it to someone else.” Five’s eyes are narrowed, concentrating as he shifts his finger, and looks satisfied when he hits the right spot.

Klaus bites back a moan, frustrated that the sides of the tub mean he can’t spread his legs even further. Water splashing onto his face as he reaches down, taking hold of his cock as Five pulls out, barely giving Klaus a moment to adjust before pushing back in with two fingers.

“Jesus.” It’s hasn’t been too long since Klaus did this, well, body wise at least, in terms of time it’s been decades, but Klaus isn’t going to think about that. Instead, he focuses on Five, how his movements may be efficient, but also how at the same time, he never looks away from Klaus’ face, taking in his reactions. 

“The key is to hit exactly the right spot,” Five says as if reciting from some textbook. “If you do that you’re golden, and can come in minutes. Seconds sometimes if you look up and an assassin is heading straight for your campsite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Klaus says, panting for breath, and it’s not fair that Five is still pulled together when Klaus feels like he’s about to explode at the seams. Each twitch of Five’s fingers is driving Klaus to distraction, and he makes no attempt to muffle his groan when Five decides that two fingers aren’t enough, and adds in another.

Klaus bites at his lip, stretched in ways that are almost too good, his eyes rolling back as Five continuously hits the sweet spot that has Klaus desperate to move, needing more with each sure twist of Five’s fingers

Eyes closed, Klaus curls his fingers around his dick, needing the friction as he strokes himself in time with the thrust of Five’s fingers.

Klaus is close, teetering on the edge as he forces his eyes open, and sees that Five is staring right back. There’s no hint of his usual confidence and bravado, the weight of the future temporarily gone from the shoulders -- there’s only Klaus’ brother.

And it’s enough to push Klaus over the edge, coming with a strangled cry, spilling over his own hand and into the water. 

“You good now?” Five asks, waiting all of a few seconds before gently pulling his fingers free. “If so, I’ve got things to do.”

“I’m good,” Klaus manages to say, boneless and relaxed, his hand lax on his stomach. It’s a good feeling, and he looks over at Five and says, “Thanks.”

Five stands, shirtsleeves crumpled around his elbows, the material on one side damp, but he smiles as picks up his blazer and says, “Anytime.”

And with that, walks away.


	4. Vanya

Vanya is a surprise. She shouldn’t be, lately, she’s been more visible than she has been for years. Even so, it takes Klaus a moment to understand that yes, it is Vanya creeping into his room.

“If you want I’ll go,” Vanya says, already braced for rejection. Klaus hates to see it, how she’s hovering in the doorway, ready to leave at his word. And for a long moment, Klaus is tempted to tell her to go. He doesn’t know her, not really, none of them do. But at the same time, she’s here, even if she is hunched in on herself and like so many times previously, partially shut down.

If Klaus is too much, Vanya’s always been too little, and he sits up on the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come sit, tell me things.”

“Like what?” Vanya moves closer, her first step hesitant, then more sure as she approaches and sits.

“Sorry for the mess.” Not that Klaus cares at such, but Vanya is perching on the edge of the bed, avoiding the crumple of fabric that’s Allison’s dress and a blanket that’s soaked through with sweat. And it is only sweat, Klaus doesn’t cry, at least, he hasn’t since he woke up this morning. “And tell me about fun things. We can have girl talk.”

“Yeah?” Vanya smiles then, her shoulders relaxing as she reaches out and picks up the red thong between two of her fingers. “Like underwear choices? Because I’m not really into things like this.”

“You should be.” Klaus crosses his legs, sits buddha style with his elbows braced on his knees as he looks at Vanya. “Good underwear makes you feel pretty.”

“It can also ride up your crack when you’re sitting for a long time,” Vanya says, and it takes Klaus a beat to realise she’s making a joke.

“You need to suffer for your art,” Klaus says, going for mock serious as he plucks the thong from out of Vanya’s hand and pings it across the room. 

Absently, Vanya rubs the tips of her fingers together, says, “Maybe,” and then, “How are you feeling?”

It’s the first time today that Klaus has been asked so directly, and his initial reaction as always is to say ‘fine’. But he doesn’t. Vanya deserves more than a glib lie. “I feel…. Better. I’m still craving. I think I always will.”

“I'm sorry.” Vanya looks down, her hair covering her face from the side, and Klaus can almost see the mental effort before she reaches out and touches his knee. “I could stay.”

It’s Vanya setting herself up for rejection once again, and if his dad wasn’t already dead, Klaus would kill him for beating her confidence so low. Except, if Klaus did that he’d have to kill himself too, and all his other siblings. But as he can’t. What Klaus does do is say, “That would be lovely.”

Vanya smiles, small but genuine, and it feels like Klaus is seeing her for the first time.

“You’re staring,” Vanya says, and her hand is still on Klaus’ knee, her fingers curled over bone.

“Because you’re beautiful.” Klaus keeps staring, because he knows Vanya, of course, he does, he grew up with her in this mansion before they all went their own ways. It’s just, it seems like he’s never actually _seen_ her.

Vanya shakes her head, says, “Allison is the beautiful sister.”

“No,” Klaus says, and then, “Not that she’s not beautiful, she is, she’s gorgeous. But you...”

Abruptly, Klaus jumps from the bed and opens his wardrobe door, displaying the full-length mirror on the inside. Quickly, he positions the mirror so it’s exactly reflecting the bed, and crawls back on it, settling next to Vanya.

“Look at you.”

Vanya looks, there’s no way she can’t, the angle of the mirror perfect.

“I look like me,” Vanya says, staring at her own reflection, then pulls in a breath as she turns her attention to Klaus. “And you look like you. You always have.”

“Not always,” Klaus says because he hasn’t always had the confidence to wear what he wants. Or truthfully, the chemical blurring of edges and a craving for reactions, both positive and not.

“On the outside maybe,” Vanya allows, and Klaus remembers how she’s always stood in the background and watched, forced to know them all at a distance. “Inside, you’ve always been you.”

It’s not a complete compliment, and Klaus knows that. The boy he was back then with his fears and power of avoidance still part of the man now. He looks away from his own reflection, then looks back when Vanya cups her hand over his cheek and gently pushes.

“Don’t do that. If I have to look, you have to, too.”

Klaus looks, at the eyeliner that’s smeared under his eyes, his curls limp and half dry, the way his skin looks pale against the rainbow briefs that he’s wearing. “I look like shit.”

“On the surface,” Vanya agrees, but before Klaus can attempt a protest, she’s standing and turns, never pausing as she crawls onto Klaus’ lap. “But your eyes are clear.”

Instinctively, Klaus wraps his arms around Vanya, so they’re sitting chest to chest, Vanya’s legs either side of his body. As positions go it’s comfortable but also intimate, and yet again Klaus is in the dark about where this is going.

“This is nice,” Vanya says, and she’s looking at their reflection, at their legs and chest pressed together. “We’ve never really hung out before.”

“We can change that.” Klaus thinks back, his chest aching at the realisation that he doesn’t think Vanya’s ever hung out with any of them individually and even in a group was pushed to the side. “How do you feel about clubs and dancing? Or shopping? Shopping is great, I know this fantastic thrift store that sells the most amazing feather boas.”

“I don’t think boas are my thing,” Vanya says, laughing a little as she tightens her grip on Klaus, never looking away from the mirror. “But I’d love to hang out.”

“Then we will,” Klaus announces, shifting a little because Vanya keeps slightly moving and while the contact isn’t that much it’s enough, and he has to say something. “Sorry for little Klaus, he’s being greedy for contact today.”

“It’s okay,” Vanya says, and Klaus thinks it going to stay like that, both ignoring his obvious hard-on. Except, without another word, Vanya pushes her hand between their bodies, and slides her fingers under the elastic of his briefs, taking hold of his dick and attempts a stroke.

Her hand feels nothing like Allison’s, or Klaus’. It’s smaller, her grip sure, the tips of her fingers hardened in places. It’s also too much, too soon, skin dragging together, and Klaus gropes under his pillow, Vanya stilling her hand as he blindly searches for the bottle of lube that he keeps there.

Using his thumb to open the lid, he squirts lube on his palm, throwing the bottle aside as he reaches down, putting his hand next to Vanya’s and says, “It’ll help with the friction.”

“Okay,” Vanya says, and at Klaus’ encouraging look, starts moving her hand again. This time it’s better, much better, Klaus matching her strokes, their fingers together, Klaus unable to look away from the mirror.

They look good, they look _incredible_. Cheeks flushed, their bodies pushed together, the muscles in their arms flexing in unison. Vanya’s eyes half closed as she increases the speed of their joint strokes, and as she does Klaus flexes his thumb. Frustratingly he can barely brush over the crotch of Vanya’s pants, feeling damp fabric and more than anything wants to push inside. Imagines bringing her off with his fingers.

“You need to take off your pants next time,” Klaus says, and in the mirror, Vanya’s eyes open fully, and she smiles even as she twists her hand, adding to the pressure.

“As long as you do too,” Vanya says, resting her forehead against Klaus’, her breath hot as she adds, “Five’s been telling me some things I’d like to try out.”

And that’s just unfair, how’s Klaus supposed to keep going when he knows Five’s been giving tips and they both look so good. Their movements as one as Vanya pushes the pace so all Klaus can do is watch their reflection and hold on. Until he can’t, and amazingly, manages to come once again.


	5. Ben

Ben appears when it’s starting to get dark.

At least, Klaus first becomes aware of him when it starts to get dark. For all he knows Ben could have been there all day, watching at all times. Which Klaus is okay with, at least today he’ll have seen Klaus having fun with his siblings and not wallowing in misery while drowning his sorrows. 

“Have you been watching?” Still dressed only in his rainbow briefs, Klaus is back on the floor. He feels better there, the surface more stable. “Because if you have, you’re a dirty pervert voyeur.”

Ben shrugs, perching on the edge of the desk and he stares down at Klaus. “Says the person who’s just had some kind of sex with four of his siblings.”

Klaus holds up his hand, three fingers extended. “Three siblings, I didn’t have sex with Luther. We just had a moment. Though I do think he may have sent the others, which is unexpected. Does that make him a pimp?”

Ben grins, says, “Why don’t you ask him next time you see him?”

For a long moment, Klaus considers. On one hand, it would be fantastic to see Luther’s reaction to that question, but on the other, there’s no point rocking the boat when things have been going so well. “I’ll pass on that, but you haven’t answered the question.”

“I watched,” Ben says, with no shame at all. “It was either that or watching demons get summoned, so I decided to watch my brother’s own personal porno. I’ve been calling it _The Sexth Sense_ ”

Klaus would protest, but really, he’s got no grounds and as far as the title goes it’s apt. “I like it. It’s snappy.”

“I thought so.” Still perched on the desk, Ben looks at Klaus for a long moment, his smile fading. “You know, if I could I’d help you out, too.”

Klaus wishes that too. More than anything he wishes he could touch Ben again, it doesn’t even have to be sexually, a casual hug would do. But as much as he does want that, there’s something else Ben needs to know that’s even more important. “You already do. Help me I mean.”

Ben shrugs, says, “I hang around and bug you sometimes. That’s not helping.”

“You’re wrong.” Klaus has to stress that because if it wasn’t for Ben, no way would Klaus be here now. “You’re the angel on my shoulder or the devil. Hell, you’re both. If it wasn’t for you I’d have given up a long time ago now.”

“If you cross over before your time I’ll kill you again when you get there,” Ben says and slides off the desk so he’s kneeling in front of Klaus. “But you’re welcome.”

On those words, Ben leans in, brushing a kiss against Klaus’ mouth. A kiss with no physical contact, but one Klaus feels all the same, warmth flooding his body as Ben pulls back.

“Now get up, you’re about to get another visitor.”

Klaus starts to ask who but falls silent. There’s no point in asking when Ben’s already gone.


	6. Diego

It turns out to be Diego. Which of course it is, Klaus should have known that -- had hoped that.

As always Diego’s dressed in all leather, making a perfunctory effort to knock once before striding into the room and looks at Klaus who’s made it back onto his bed, “I told Luther he was wrong, that you didn’t need this, but I guess….”

“He was right?” Klaus suggests, prompting Diego who looks unwilling to actually say the words. “That is, if you mean he’s sent you all to distract me today, then yeah, he _was_ right. The sex was a surprise, though. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

Diego grins, something satisfied and savage. “Well, he didn’t actually say the words, but that’s what he meant. I didn’t think I’d ever see him so red.”

“I wish I’d seen it.” And Klaus does, well, until he realises that it also means he’d hear the others discuss him. Which normally Klaus would enjoy, just not when his defences remain so unstable and shaky. Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t ask for details. “Did his ears go red? And what did he say instead of the sex word? Tell me he said making love.”

Klaus is amused at the thought, even though, thinking back, that’s exactly what’s happened today. His siblings making love, just in their own ways. 

“He said we should distract you in physical ways, and yeah, his ears went red,” Diego says, taking a moment to pull two knives from behind his back and set them down safely. “I thought his head would explode when Five mentioned prostate milking.”

“He’s obsessed with that,” Klaus says, and then, with his own grin. “And bloody good at it.”

“Decades alone will do that.” Efficiently, Diego pulls off his top and then pushes down his pants, leaving himself naked. Which would be an excellent look, except, his pants are left crumpled over his boots.

“The secret to a good striptease is always shoes off first,” Klaus says, biting back a grin as Diego hops toward the bed, sitting heavily and frowning at Klaus as he does so. “And does this mean you signed up to the great ‘make Klaus feel better via sex’ project?”

“I was a prospective member before there was even was a project,” Diego says, untying his laces and tugging off his boots. Kicking both aside, he pulls off his pants, throwing them so they land on Allison’s dress and the still-damp blanket. “Your bed is a mess.”

“Well I’m so sorry it’s not up to your standards,” Klaus says, mock contrite. “But it’s seen a lot of action today.”

“I suppose,” Diego allows, turning so he can look directly at Klaus. “And it’s going to see more now.”

“Is that a promise?” Klaus asks, and while this is the first time he’s done this with Diego, it feels right, something clicking easily into place. Confident in his own body, Diego stands, looking down, and all Klaus can do is look back. 

“Holy shit,” Klaus breathes, and he's seen Diego before, but not like this. Confident in his own skin, muscled and lean, and so obviously turned on.

“You like?” Diego asks, and right now he’s all show, as he slowly turns, showing off his whole body.

"I love," Klaus replies, and crawls away from the mess on his bed and sits at the edge, his legs spread as he commands, “You need to come here.”

Diego takes a step forward, his gaze locked with Klaus’, no hint of a smile as he obeys the command. This close Klaus has to look up, seeing the way Diego’s throat moves when he swallows, how his eyes half close when Klaus rests his hands against Diego’s hips and holds on, fitting his thumbs against the crease of his groin.

"I'm supposed to be distracting you," Diego says, making no attempt to move.

“You are distracting me,” Klaus says, pressing his thumbs in harder as he takes a last look at Diego’s face before moving in closer. Klaus needs to touch, to taste as he mouths at the skin over Diego’s hipbone, sucking hard.

It's the perfect position, Diego’s dick warm, brushing against Klaus’s cheek as he keeps sucking.

“Klaus,” Diego says brokenly, putting his hand on Klaus’ shoulder, his fingers digging in.

Klaus knows what he wants, and Klaus is willing to oblige-- a little. His touch teasing, he drags his tongue along the underside of Diego’s dick. Then stops, taking a moment to take it all in, the sound of Diego’s harsh breathing, the scent of him and how Diego's dick feels against Klaus' mouth.

It feels good, it feels _perfect_ , and Klaus loves this. That someone usually so contained is fighting for control as Klaus sucks, hard at first, then gently, throwing Diego off kilter. Klaus looks up, sees how Diego is his for the taking. It would be easy to keep going like this, to suck Diego down, hard and fast, deep-throating in the way Klaus has perfected, but he wants more.

In a surprise move, Klaus stands and twists them both around and pushes, so Diego ends up sprawled on the bed.

Diego lands awkwardly, obviously off-balance as he tries to regain the upper hand, but Klaus won't let him. How can he when Diego looks so perfect like this? All spread out, hard and wanting, his eyes dark, trusting as Klaus kneels so he's straddling Diego, then lets himself down, so their bodies fit together.

Beneath him, Diego lies still, pliant as Klaus moves, grinding against him, their dicks dragging together in a way that makes Klaus feel light-headed. Diego's breath against his cheek, the sound of his breathing, the rest of the world bleeding away.

Overheated, Klaus mouths at Diego's neck, biting down as Diego groans and pushes up, only the damp, thin layer of Klaus' briefs between them as they work together, rhythm matching as Klaus keeps moving, his craving now only for contact. Klaus wants it all, and he bites down again, hard, loving the way Diego bucks and moans in response.

And it's that that pushes Klaus abruptly over the edge, peaking pleasure turning into something white-hot, and all he can do is go for the ride, Diego shuddering beneath him.

~*~*~*~

Diego leaves Klaus’ bed in the middle of the night, but that’s okay, that’s fine.

Because Klaus knows that all his siblings are close, that they’re there if he needs them, and he will, it’s just a case of when.

But for now, Klaus sleeps.


End file.
